


Dot.//Romance

by allmyboisarethebestbois



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Pathfinder is just a tad bit of a hoarder, Piano, Pining, Self-Harm, badly written action scenes, kind of, might be very ooc im sorry, more like kind of respect to awkward friends to passionate lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmyboisarethebestbois/pseuds/allmyboisarethebestbois
Summary: When Pathfinders respawn chip malfunctions saving Revenant during a match, he is left stranded and in agony. Revenant decides to help him.Or, Revenants gay panic increasing after every interaction with Pathfinder.
Relationships: Pathfinder/Revenant (Apex Legends)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I am super duper nervous to start posting this, so if chapters are all over the place I haven't given up it's just my anxiety going feral B)
> 
> I'm also not at all a writer, so like, forgive the mistakes plz i beg
> 
> Will probably be OOC, but I'm trying my best to keep them in character

Revenant was definitely not made to be on dropships, standing at nearly seven-foot-tall he had to uncomfortably hunch just so he wouldn’t constantly hit his head off the ceiling of the damned thing. It was annoying to say the least, and speaking of annoying, he could barely think over the sound of the other skin bags chatting loudly to each other, overly excited for a game they’d done a million times before. Irritation rolled over him in waves and he was quite tempted to bash some of their skulls into the wall, however he refrained, he could do far worse damage once the games began.

Today was Thursday, meaning that squads would be placed in duos instead of trios. A recent change, something new to spice up the Apex Games for the viewers packed into the crowds or lounging at home. For the most part, he got paired with one of the other well-known legends who could actually keep up, though on some days, he got paired with the most insufferable teammates who thought they were Gods and expected everyone to treat them so. Needless to say, he’d killed his teammates on more than one occasion. A monotonous voice chimed in from the screen hanging in the corner, readying everyone for team announcements.

“Attention Apex Legends, here is your squad information.” It paused, everyone stilled and watched the screen intently.

Revenant awaited his name, preparing himself for the useless sack he would most definitely be paired with. Bangalore and Lifelines names were called and they moved aside, pleased smiles framing their faces. So that was the soldier and medic gone. Next up was Mirage and Bloodhound, who blatantly ignored the fist Mirage pumped into the air before waltzing towards them. And the tracker gone too, great. His banner popped up on the screen.

“Squad Six, Revenant and Pathfinder, please make your way to the door.”

What Pathfinder lacked in by being irritating, he made up for by being a great bullet shield. His blocky build and loud mechanical whirring could easily be heard from a mile away, making him the first target to be shot at. Not to mention that on particularly sunny days the blue paint shone like beacon, probably blinding anyone using a sniper scope, which he guessed was an advantage somewhat.

“Looks like we’re teammates this time, friend!” Pathfinder bounced on his heels.

At some point he’d learned to tune out Pathfinder, every time they teamed up he asked questions in what he saw as an attempt to befriend him, who knows why, and while it momentarily threw him off at the start now he simply ignores him whenever he asks where his ‘happy face’ is. He made a move towards door six and squished in next to the dumb robot. Sure, it made it difficult to jump at first, but once they were flying through the air he had no problem spacing out. He just had to make it through these first few minutes of being unbearably close to Pathfinder to the point of their metal grating together.

“I am excited to win!” He attempted a thumbs up, which resulted in his arm crashing into his side.

“Watch it.” He growled.

“Sorry, friend.” Pathfinder became very still from there on, clearly not wanting to be the result of Revenant flying out of the dropship door unprepared.

The parachute symbol above the door blinked green, prompting everyone to plan their descent. Revenant nodded to the far corner of Olympus, despite the loot there being mediocre at best, it gave the opportunity to sneak around without a war zone happening the minute he landed.

“Follow me or stay out of my way.” And with that he leapt out of the door, jump kit blaring behind him in aggressive trails of red.

The moment his feet hit the ground he broke into a run; the nearest loot bin wasn’t far. Pathfinder kept close to him and pointed out various scopes that would fit his gun and shield batteries that would protect him. Not that it would matter if he got seriously injured.

“We should hang out after today’s match.” Pathfinder chirped from beside him, looking very much like he wanted to clap his hands together if it wasn’t for the gigantic rifle in them.

“No.” He didn’t have to think twice about it, the thought of being surrounded by all of Pathfinders little skin bag friends made his skin crawl, that was not a situation he ever desired to be in. “I don’t enjoy the company of skin bags.”

“Oh, I meant just you and I.” He paused. Well, that was a new one, he didn’t see why Pathfinder would want to willingly ‘hang out’ with him after the games, with all the times he’d shoved him and slapped his hands away from touching his arms and shoulders you’d think he’d give up on the whole befriending thing.

Before he could reply, a stray bullet knocked into his armour and threw him off balance. He immediately searched the area, Pathfinder doing the same beside him, he could see someone’s hair poking out from the pillar ahead. Bangalore. He shot at her mercilessly until the sound of her armour shattered away, breaking into a sprint until he came to the pillar and used his claws to crawl up the side. Bangalore was hooked up to a Lifeline drone as she kept her gaze trained on the field, frantically searching for where he had hidden. He cocked his gun just to watch her startle, she didn’t scream, she was far too proud for that, even so the glint of fear in her eyes was worth it. Pathfinder grappled in from the side, swinging in and crushing the drone as he rammed her with shells, the scent of copper permeated the air. Lifeline suddenly appeared from the corner, aiming as best she could amongst all the movement. Revenant jumped down from the pillar, sliding across the grass and taking her out with ease.

The squad count was depleting fast and he and Pathfinder were nowhere near the next ring. He glanced over to find him setting up a zip line and felt the smallest surge of relief that they wouldn’t have to make a mad dash whilst narrowly avoiding the closing ring and hidden people.

“It’s Zip Line time!” Pathfinder cheered and clipped himself onto the line, gliding across the land. Revenant followed shortly after and roughly jumped to the ground.

Pathfinder didn’t have the chance to land, his head snapped to the right, frantically shooting in a direction that was just out of Revenants sight when Bloodhound emerged from the shadows, bolting at him with the speed only a God could give. Something hazy sprung into his peripheral and Revenant began to pull out his totem, quickly placing it before Pathfinder could be downed. His arm swung through the hazy mass. A decoy, he realized. A lot of them. Bloodhounds feral state was wearing them down, their movements were slowing and the eerie red glaze fading as they fought off Pathfinder, who grappled them towards him and shot straight through the jacket, one down, only one more to go.

Mirage was difficult to find amid the many copies of him running around, and yet when you realised the pattern of the decoys and how they ran aimlessly without shooting, it wasn’t that difficult at all. Mirage was above, aiming a grenade at them with a pale face and dreary eyes.

“Pathfinder!” He yelled across to him. “Grapple me up there!”

“Okay, friend.” Before he knew it there was a hand around his waist and a certain lack of ground beneath him. Did Pathfinder just fucking _pick him up_.

“Put me down!” He shouted.

“A fall from this height would hurt you, friend.” Revenant was doing everything he could to mentally stab Pathfinder as he swung him up towards a very sickly looking Mirage.

He was heavily bleeding and desperately retreating from Revenants towering form, he gave one solid shot to the head and his body wavered and blurred as the respawn chip teleported him out of the ring.

He marched up to Pathfinder.

“Don’t you, _ever_ , do that again.” He pitched his voice as low as it would go, hoping to intimidate him into never touching him again.

“Got it.” He gave a thumbs up and reflected the same action on his screen. Revenant was severely close to shooting him himself if it wasn’t for the sudden rampant artillery raining in from…somewhere.

He couldn’t see anyone nearby, even through the scope. Shit, he could tell his health was low, the tell-tale dizziness and muffled hearing made his brain frustratingly slow to cooperate and he didn’t have the energy to use another death totem yet. Shit. He angled his head towards Pathfinder, beginning to ask if he was carrying any syringes when he unexpectedly clutched his shoulders and shoved him aside, taking a bombardment of shells to his back. He silently fell to the ground. Revenant was left stunned and staring at the unmoving hunk of metal that had most definitely just saved him. He decided to leave the decrepit building in an effort to shake the confusion, the ring was moving anyway, he needed to move forward.

Three other squads remained and he desperately needed light ammo. Most of the bins were empty or contained useless items so he continued to speed through each one as quickly as he could, glancing every few seconds for a sign of the enemy squads. A sound in the far distance caught his attention, a type of whooshing and he reloaded his gun. Someone was spying on him. Wraith appeared from the void and blasted wildly with well-trained accuracy. He ducked low and zigzagged his way towards her, breaking through her strong armour, nearly had her when Gibraltar sent a flurry of bullets into his side, successfully knocking him down.

When Revenant opened his eyes again he was staring at the plated spine of himself and the thousands of copies of his body that were hung like cattle. Son of a bitch. He’d been so close to championship that match, if Pathfinder hadn’t dramatically shoved him out of the way they would have made it further too. By the time he makes it back to the arena the games will have ended, giving him time to remove his body from the grounds since they generally seemed to forget that his body didn’t fade away like theirs did. He wasn’t gifted the respawn chip. They all knew he would just come back anyway. The journey back to the arena was uneventful save for some confused gazes of people who had just watched him in the arena. He was right, his body still laid lifeless on the grass stained black in oil. He tended to find something in the distance to stare at to avoid looking at the body, he didn’t want to see.

He went to grab it when a whimper echoed through the empty grounds. An animal perhaps? Although, he doubted an animal would manage to make it inside with all the guards that surrounded the arena, he walked around and listened closely.

There it was again.

He closed in on the building he and Pathfinder had been in and felt as if he already knew what he’d find. Not allowing himself to linger on that thought, because It had to be an animal or something akin to one, surely Pathfinder would have respawned back at his assigned changing room by now. Right?

He pushed open the door.

Pathfinder had not been respawned.

He was whimpering, actually _whimpering_ and reaching out despairing hands towards him making sorrow filled beeps and anguished groans. It was…unnerving, to say the least. When Pathfinder usually got hit, he didn’t make a sound except for the ting the bullet made when it reached the metal, more likely to cheerfully note that he was taking fire. This, he had never seen this before. He was sat in a puddle of his own oil, twitching and jolting at random intervals, only when he did twitch, he let out a yowl of agony and pressed harder against the oil seeping from the static filled screen. Revenant kneeled before him not really sure of what he was doing.

“I am-am scared-d.” His voice distorted and glitched over the syllables, his tone distinctly not cheerful, his hands reached the scarf around his neck and held on for dear life. Discomfort squirmed around his insides, this is not the Pathfinder he knows. Because the Pathfinder he knows is stupidly optimistic and unbearably happy and overbearingly friendly. The Pathfinder he knows is tactical and always thinks three steps ahead, which is what got him in this state in the first place.

God damn it.

He can’t believe he’s about to do this.

“Can you move your legs?” He asks, and Pathfinders gaze moves down to his legs, which remain solid on the ground. He has no choice; he’s going to have to carry him.

He rounds Pathfinder until he reaches his back, tilting him forward and accessing the massacre of holes there. The bullets must have pierced some wires, or at least something important for there to be this much oil leakage. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls, if he can press his back flush to his chest, he may be able to stop the leaking somewhat. Blue hands fly to the ones wrapped around him, distress painting every cry and every beep that left his body, which was burningly hot to the touch.

“Shh, you’ll be fine, I’m taking you to that blonde skin bag, you’ll be fine.” The sounds were disturbing to hear and he felt the need to calm him down, an oddity he refused to acknowledge.

He’d killed Pathfinder many times before, he took pleasure in it just like every other kill he got. The difference was that he is a lot stronger than your average meat sack and can hold his own pretty well. It made battles more challenging and slightly more enjoyable though he’d never admit that to anyone. When he did down the MRVN, he took satisfaction that he had the chance to do it again next round, he glanced down at the weight in his arms, if he died, he would never get the chance to oppose him in the ring again. He picked up the speed.

This wasn’t working, his hands were slipping and the uneven ground was just putting Pathfinder in more pain than he’s already in. Revenant dropped his hold and moved to crouch in front of him, grabbing securely beneath his knees.

“Hold on, if you die I’ll kill you myself.” It didn’t make sense, but Pathfinder was slowly becoming more sluggish and out of touch. He hadn’t said another word yet so he assumed his voice box was busted too.

This was not how he expected his day to be going, when he woke up this morning and trekked through the morning dew to assemble with all the other legends he didn’t think he’d be trying to save a dying robots life. A robot who was exceedingly nice to him for no reason at all.

Shut up, focus.

Arms wrapped around his neck and he could feel him nuzzle into his shoulder, this was much easier to handle. Revenant broke into a jog, despite Pathfinders protests, he needed to find the Blonde girl and quickly. She should be in her little lab doing whatever it was she did and the door nearly fell off its hinges as he kicked it down. Her gun trained on him in an instant until she saw the very much destroyed MRVN Unit on his back.

“What did you do?” And a pang of anger zapped through him, he’s taken pity on Pathfinder for once and tried to save him and this is the reaction he gets.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” He snarled. “His respawn chip isn’t working.”

She threw her equipment to the side, clearing as much space as she could on the large workspace so that Pathfinder could lay sideways. Her face flushed red as she attempted to grab onto Pathfinder shoulder, only to flinch back when he realised he was overheating and positively on fire at this point with smoke beginning to seep from his screen. She grabbed a pair of thermal gloves when all noise and movement ceased from Pathfinder. Wattson scrambled towards his chest, frantically typing in codes until the screen hissed and depressurised, smoke quickly spiralling into the air. Mirage and Lifeline who heard the chaos came running in through the door.

“What’s wro-Ah, what the hell is he doing here!?” Mirage shrieked ungracefully, backing away from him.

“Pathfinders respawn chip isn’t working!” She cried.

At that Mirages eyes filled with panic and he ran up to the body on the table, yelling his name and shaking him, looking very much as if he were about to cry when he realised he wasn’t responding. At this point they had completely forgotten Revenants presence in place of moving around the table in a state of panic, so he decided to leave, they were engineers and some of the top ones too, they can fix him.

Pathfinder will be fine.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this yesterday and got distracted whoops, hope y'all like this calmer chapter

When Revenant woke up, he was only marginally surprised to see that it was a little after three in the afternoon. Usually by now a very loud and annoying blue robot would have woken him up to see if he wanted to spend some quality time together, which the response was always no, or snuck into his apartment to place a small ‘gift’. He didn’t actually go into his room and wake him up, he never dared to go past the dining room table, even so Revenants sixth sense kicked in whenever he was asleep to mark out incoming danger, and it was hard not to hear how noisy his metal feet against the tile were. He’d been doing it for the past two months already and he now had a pile of keychains and charms collecting dust on the edge of the table. He really should see to installing a functioning lock on the front door, the only reason he hadn’t so far was because he knew how the public feared him and knew for a fact that they wouldn’t risk their lives to seek out his apartment. Plus, he’d attempted every scare tactic he knew on Pathfinder and still that didn’t deter him from wanting to be friends, and it wasn’t as if he would assassinate him in the night if he didn’t get a lock on the door so he saw no real harm in letting it swing open and closed from the broken hinges. 

Then, he remembered just why he hadn’t woken up to the sound of someone failing miserably at sneaking into his place. Pathfinder had been badly hurt yesterday. Badly hurt, hah, his back was practically falling apart by the time they made it to Wattson’s lab. He hadn’t realised yesterday, but judging by the type and amount of holes, he suspected the culprit to be Rampart’s mini gun, it was the only one that could do such damage as that in such a small amount of time. Revenant rolled over and blindly grabbed for his phone, aside from the notifications about the weather and local news, someone had apparently held an entire store at gunpoint for a potted plant, there was an important games update. He scrolled through it.

‘ _It has been announced early this morning that the Apex Games set to begin at 4pm today have been cancelled, the popular legend known as ‘Pathfinder’ seemed to have experienced a malfunction in the chip that removes him from the game._ ’

He stopped reading there, the rest wasn’t important, just useless advertising and ‘hot gossip’ on what legends did in their spare time which he honestly couldn’t care less about. Revenant dropped his phone back onto the bed and laid his arm over his eyes. With no game to attend he could just rest, shut off his eyes and pretend the black that encompassed him was deaths welcoming embrace. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do, had no food to cook, because he had no mouth to eat, no morning routine, because he had no teeth to brush and he’s pretty sure his wires wouldn’t take too kindly to being in water long enough for a bath. In fact, he doesn’t recall entering the bathroom at all since he saw the huge mirror mounted on the wall.

He supposed he still had the television, no matter how ungodly boring most of the programs were it was still something to distract his bee hive brain. It was an older design though, meaning that the channels were limited, much like everything else in this apartment, the walls were bare and painted in plain beige, limited space for limited people. The original owners, two young men, clearly enjoyed the classical style they gave the small space, at least until he’d frightened them off into leaving without packing. They hadn’t tried to come back after that and he never bothered to change any of the furniture or decoration.

He caught sight of the trees outside and considered leaving, drifting in a direction at random to escape the suffocating walls of his bedroom until he found anything worthy of interest, at the same time though, the thought of moving from his bed was unpleasant and he adjusted the covers slightly higher until it covered his head before forcing himself into sleep. It damaged his systems to overcharge them like this, still, he continued to do it, he found that dreaming was far better than anything reality could give him anyway.

When he woke up again the sun was still illuminating his bedroom wall, the shifting of it from mid wall to the floor being the only evidence that time had passed. It must’ve been around six by now judging by the direction of light, though it was hard to tell in summer since the sun barely set before it was rising again. He checked his phone, there were no updates on Pathfinder still.

He has to admit, it’s a little odd to not hear him fumbling about in his cottage on the other side of the street. Whether it was collecting those dumb cats that followed him everywhere or attempting to dig up the root of a plant in the meadow opposite, he could always hear Pathfinder up to something, he even heard him trying to hum a tune one afternoon, which he wasn’t aware his voice box was capable of. Granted it sounded terrible, not unlike an old hard drive struggling to keep its operations up. He didn’t think his voice box was capable of whimpering either, until yesterday that is, and there was something incredibly vulnerable to it that made Revenant feel as if he’d witnessed something that he shouldn’t have. He couldn’t help but stop and presume what might have happened if he hadn’t gone to check that building, or worse yet, if Pathfinders dying memories were of a synthetic nightmare carrying him off as if he were the ferry to the afterlife. If he even believed in the afterlife, it doesn’t exist either way, he’s perceived the other side, there’s nothing to look forward to.

Though he can’t say he’s surprised if he really were the last thing Pathfinder saw, everything he touches is destined to die by default. It is in his programming after all.

Eventually he has to take into account that he’s overheating, being under a blanket on the top floor of a three floor apartment complex not boding well under the mid-summer heat. So he throws off the blanket and creaks as he nudges himself out of bed, maybe a walk is a good idea. It’ll prevent him from smashing what he finds in the kitchen from boredom in the long run anyhow. As he expected, the front door is swinging from its hinges and is hitting the wall every time a gust of wind passes when he leaves his bedroom, he can see the hallway and the next apartments door from here even though nobody lives there. Nobody lives here full stop, the place was abandoned shortly after he arrived, the residents too uncomfortable with a simulacrum in the building to stay.

He ambles down the stairs and twists the handle of the entrance hall door, leading him out and into the open. He’s immediately hit with the urge to wince against the harsh rays of the sun attacking his eyes and he glances towards Pathfinders cottage and the dirt road that branches off and leads to it. He’s never ventured down that trail before, usually more intent on escaping into his place without the robot noticing him. Except, Pathfinder isn’t here right now. Revenant turns to walk through the trail, giving a fleeting look into the windows, it’s too dark inside to properly see what’s in there, he thinks he sees a photo wall on the left but doesn’t stop to further examine it. All in all, he can understand why Pathfinder likes this place so much, it’s deathly quiet with only the sound of birds and other animals scurrying around to break the tranquil silence. 

He continues to travel through the fields until he realises he’s roamed all the way to the lab unknowingly, he can see the broad white lights still on from the last time he was there and wonders is Pathfinder is still there too. He ducks low, the top of Bloodhounds helmet is visible and he doesn’t want to have to deal with dull conversations and even duller questions today. He peeks through the side of the window.

“It’s alright, Elliot.” Lifeline smooths a hand down his shoulder, beside her Wattson lays face down on the table with only her arms to pillow her head. They must’ve spent all night fixing him up, and day by the look of the rings under their eyes.

“What? No, I’m fine, never been better.” He laughs even though his red rimmed eyes give him away. “What, uh, what if he doesn’t wake back up?”

“He will.” She patted his arm. “He just needs to recharge.”

Revenant relaxes shoulders that he didn’t know were tensed, Pathfinder was alive, and would wake up in a few hours, the next day at most. He stood and peeked at him lying on the table, his back had been fixed, there were no more holes littering it and the oil had been cleaned up. Though his core was still exposed, and a thick cable connected him up to an oil tanker, reminding him of just how much ‘blood’ he had lost the day before. Revenant squinted down at himself, he still had dry and crusted oil coating his chest and he had no doubt that his back looked the same, then again most of it had probably wiped off on his bed sheets. He should probably get a damp cloth and clean the rest when he got home. When Bloodhound stood Revenant decided he’d gotten the information he needed and backed away.

The sun was beginning to set when he turned his back and he decided to take that same trail home that lead him through the meadows, and eventually past Pathfinders house. As he trekked through the flowers and observed the stars gradually beginning to fade in, he recalled a time where a man clad in black was loosely trailing behind Pathfinder. The dumb robot hadn’t realised his chest lit him up like a lantern, allowing any ill intended people to follow him home. He watched it all from his window, sure that Pathfinder would recognise that something was off, that the branch snapping in the distance wasn’t one of his cats or a stray dog, but he didn’t. So Revenant thought fast, grabbing a pen he didn’t remember owning and striking it at the fence beside Pathfinder. That drew his attention. When he saw the, now confused man, standing behind him he had asked what he was doing, jumping into action when he saw the barely concealed knife in his pocket.

The next morning, he had roused and rounded his table to that same pen with a small ‘thank you’ note. He wanted to shake Pathfinder and demand how he knew that it was him that threw the pen when he realised that he was the only other person living in these parts, so of course it would be him. He ripped up the note and threw it away, angry that he had inadvertently saved Pathfinders life, that was also the beginning of the gifts and the MRVN only appeared to be more interested in being friends than before. Who knew that two months later he’d be saving him again.

As Revenant passed the cottage again, he spied a small tabby cat looking unsure on the front step, seeming as if it was waiting for its owner and didn’t quite know what to do without him and Revenant found himself relating in some strange, impromptu thought. The only sound that filled the staircase up to his place was his own mechanical steps, and the minute he entered through the broken door he headed straight for his bed in a daze. He didn’t care about Pathfinder, he cared about his abilities in the ring and that is why he saved him for the second time. That was his last thought before he drifted off into a restless sleep about oil slicked metal and pained whimpers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a calm chapter to set up some of the juicer stuff to come B) 
> 
> Season 8 of Apex has been so addicting I literally cannot stop playing, also I love having a Revenant on my team, because his constant angry yelling makes me laugh


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so longggg, I tend to rewrite it all about six times before I'm happy with the result  
> I was also very tired editing this so there might be mistakes sorry :P

Revenant grunted as he crushed the set of engine pipes in his palm. Huh, quicker this time, and yet still not quick enough. He awoke this afternoon with the craving for destruction, well, he woke with that craving every day, but it was particularly strong today so he had waltzed out of his apartment and sharply paced his way to the nearby junk yard with the intent to crush everything in sight. It quelled his burning anger, if only a little bit, and it could pass off as training for the games he supposed. From here in the treeline he could count the bodies of himself he had destroyed here too, he never bothered to clear them up, they were practically dust by the time he was finished with them anyway. Still, he focused his gaze onto a shiny sports car below, new by the looks of it and the owner was probably nearby walking their dog in the park opposite, he didn’t care in any case, he had to destroy this vehicle.

He braced his legs against the branch, his feet digging into the crumbling bark and launched himself down. With an unsettling crunch he pushed as much of his weight as he could onto the bonnet making it bow beneath him and unsheathed his claws, skewering the engine until it was a mess of oil and warped metal. Much better.

There was nothing quite like the spike of adrenaline that coursed through him after wrecking something important. He’s well aware that it’s his programming that tells him this, but it’s nice to feel something other than fury or despair for once, so he’ll indulge in it for as long as it lasts. A scream echoes in the distance and he gathers the owner must’ve just witnessed the murder of their car and he decides that’s enough for today. He’d been bashing, breaking, and obliterating for the better part of the afternoon and the sun was starting to make his shoulders feel like liquid and his arms kept popping from trying to constantly adjust to the heat. When he took a step back he noticed his shins hadn’t taken kindly to pouncing on cars, they were covered in scratches and tiny dents looking very much like he slid down a mile of concrete.

Revenant growled a series of explicit curses under his breath, if there’s one thing he hated more than skin suits, it was summer. He couldn’t just take off his clothes or swallow a gallon of ice water to cool down, and being made of entirely metal and plastic meant the sun had a personal vendetta against him. As he closed in on the two separate paths home he chose the one that would pass the cottage, because there were a bunch of trees there that he hoped would shade him and allow his core to let out a sigh of relief. Plus, the heat made a disadvantage in the games, he struggled to move as swiftly as he could when the entirety of his systems were lagging behind and his fans were more roaring than a jet taking flight. Autumn couldn’t come any slower, at least then the rain brought a cloud of grey tumbling over, so that when he moved his gaze two centimetres into the sky he wouldn’t be instantly blinded. He didn’t understand how Pathfinder could spend so long in this heat, every day he saw him outside in the fields or shuffling around in his garden or even travelling in a large group with the other legends downtown when Revenant rarely needed to visit there.

Speaking of Pathfinder, as he passed the cottage the noticed the little lights were on, meaning that he was either currently home or had made a quick stop here. Revenant forced himself to turn his head away, why did it matter if he was home yet, if he was home it just meant he’d be back to bothering him like he always did. He was just about to round the corner from the staircase to the hallway when a flash of blue caught his eye. Maybe he was already on his way to bothering him.

“What are you doing?” Pathfinder was standing outside his door, his fist raised as if he were seconds away from knocking, despite him not needing to as his door was beyond broken at this point. His fist opened up into an enthusiastic wave.

“Hi friend, I have brought you flowers!” He presented a large bouquet of Zinnia and Lilies wrapped in a thin white ribbon. Deep crimson and stark white, whether he intended to or not it was hard not to notice that they matched his colour scheme down to a tee.

“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest, why Pathfinders first thought after waking up was to buy him flowers he wasn’t sure. Actually, judging by the incredibly large size difference of the stems and how rough the edges were, it looked like he had cut them himself. He hadn’t ever come across these flowers when he passed his house though.

“Well, I asked Elliot what a good thank you gift would be for someone who saved your life, and he said ‘flowers or something’.” Revenant was certain Mirage wouldn’t have said that if he knew the flowers would be going to him. “I picked these flowers because I think they are beautiful, and because they remind me of you.”

The dripping of water from the bottom of the stem and whirring of Pathfinders core was the only sound that bounced off of the hallway walls. He was still bouncing on his feet and holding the bouquet up to him unaware of the inner turmoil that had begun to set in like stone, just close enough that he could smell them. The scent wasn’t new to him, whenever he stood next to Pathfinder in the dropship doors the sweet scent of flowers and fresh pollen wafted past him. Pollen stuck to him like a bee, which never failed to make him chuckle when Loba would have a sneezing fit when he got close to her. He never grew tired of watching her eyes stream and puff up red talking to the MRVN, stuck between wanting to talk to him and not wanting to be sneezing for the next three hours. Now, the smell wasn’t amusing him. Pathfinder had just inadvertently called him beautiful and everything that was him protested, and shrieked in retaliation.

“I am not beautiful.” He felt his insides curling up into himself, his fingers began to dig into his arms.

“I think you are very beautiful, your face is so human-” Pathfinder didn’t get to finish his sentence before he was being harshly shoved against the wall, his head thumped on impact. He wrapped his claws around his throat in a vice grip until he could feel the thrumming of live wires beneath.

“Don’t you _dare_ call me human, you know very well I’m not one of those skin suits.” He shouted down at him and his blocky digits flew up to the talons around his throat that were verging on painful.

“I did not mean that! I meant the structure is nice-” His voice box was straining against his fingers, he could feel it vibrate and hum as he spoke.

“I am not nice!” He roared down at him, his towering form had blocked out any light coming from the windows, creating a terrifying image of a shadow.

“I am a murder machine you idiot, I am designed to kill and I would kill you right now. I don’t know what it is in your stupid bolts for brains that makes you think I’m like one of your little skin suit friends, but I am not, my humanity was stripped away from me hundreds of years ago. I am not ‘beautiful’, I am inhumane, a distorted hunk of metal and I can’t do anything without being reminded just what I am. I can’t eat, I can’t drink, I can’t even blink without being reminded that I am stuck here. This is not living; this is just existing!”

He takes a moment to catch his, metaphorical, breath. He doesn’t remember when he switched from being angry at Pathfinder to being angry at the world and hating his existence, or when he got so close to Pathfinder that their chests were brushing, nevertheless the robot is staring up at him with that same fearful expression he wore when he was dying and Revenant feels his fingers loosen and slip away without his permission. He needs space and to be alone and to not be alive anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He hears and that just makes him feel worse.

“What? Why?” He questions and hates how his voice has the underlining of machinery, hates how Hammond Robotics had painted every inch of him in their name.

“Because you are in pain, and I did not mean to trigger that.” He even has the decency to look down at his chest that reflects that crying face in a dull blue. At this point he’s too exhausted to deal with this.

“Just leave.” He sounds pitiful to himself and he walks past Pathfinder and into his apartment.

He expects to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind him since he’s been incapable of leaving him alone ever since they first met, so when he turns to find that Pathfinder has vanished he feels startlingly empty. He feels…bad, the usual urge to tear out each wire that holds him together stands at the forefront of his mind, underneath that though, there’s a separate type of ‘bad’ feeling, almost resembling guilt. Which is a shock he can’t comprehend, because he hasn’t felt that in over three hundred years and can’t understand why he feels it now. Was it because he had scared and almost injured the one person that dared to befriend him? He hadn’t ever taken Pathfinders presence seriously and now that he had spent two days without knowing if he were alive or not and had witnessed him at one of his most vulnerable moments it’s completely messed up all that he knows.

The sight of the slightly destroyed bouquet laying forgotten in the hallway isn’t helping either. He’s too busy numbing himself to go back out there, too raw to walk back into that atmosphere where, for a split second, Pathfinder had been afraid of him. Afraid that he’d kill him.

He ambles over to his bed and collapses, rolling around until all that exists is this small dark space between the sheets. He doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t want to feel, and when he shuts himself off he pretends it’s for the last time. A part of him holds onto that resentment that swallows him whole, that if Pathfinder hadn’t gotten damaged he wouldn’t be feeling so strange in the first place. He had no issue with getting physical with him before, but now it all just felt uncomfortable. He never really thought about Pathfinder dying before, now it’s all he can think about, that if he breaks it could very well be for the last time.

Something fragile smashes in his kitchen, waking him up a few hours later judging by the arrows of the clock on the far wall. He knows it’s Pathfinder, because who else would be dumb enough to show back up, and he’s quite tempted to ignore him and go back to sleep just so he doesn’t have to look at his wide glistening eye and projected sad faces. Eventually the curiosity gets the better of him and he peaks his head around the corner of his door.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. A moody lamp had been haphazardly placed and plugged into the wall, illuminating the living room in very dim tones and a large porcelain bowl sat on the bland coffee table.

“What are you doing?” The earlier fight has drained out of him, leaving exhaustion in its place despite the two-hour long nap he took.

“I had an idea!” He exclaims with barely contained excitement. He lifts the bowl for him to see more clearly, its contents were small, matching the colour of the bowl itself and looking like they had been squished.

“When my friends watch a movie, they like to eat this thing called ‘popcorn’, and I noticed that my oil reserve balls look like popcorn when squished.” He held up one for emphasise, it didn’t quite match popcorn, it was far too stark white to be the golden hue popcorn had, but it was close enough he supposed. “And I always see your TV on when I walk by, you must like it a lot.”

“I can’t eat.” He sighs it out, feeling even more drained than before.

“Oh no, you put it in the port on your neck, have you never had one of these before?” It should sound sarcastic, probably would if it were anybody else, except when he looks up he sees that Pathfinder is being genuine. Genuine and patient. He shakes his head and curiously watches Pathfinder pick one from the bunch and place the bowl back down on the table, reaching up to the top of his shoulder and sliding open a hatch, letting the crushed ball disappear into it.

“It’s on my shoulder for me, but for you it will be on your neck.” Pathfinder pointed to the right side of his neck and looked hopefully up at him. He wants to know how Pathfinder knows where this port is and why, he’s too tired to interrogate him, especially after earlier so instead he moves towards the bowl.

He places one in his palm and scrutinises its tiny form, even without being crushed they might’ve originally been the size of a penny at best. With his other hand he reaches for his neck, slipping beneath his scarf and pressing down until something hisses and opens. He takes one final glance at Pathfinder before slotting it in, if he poisons him he wouldn’t be too mad. He felt the ball disintegrate and degrade as it slowly made its way down tubes he didn’t know he possessed, the process feeling all too familiar to swallowing cold liquid and feeling it settle in your stomach.

“I can’t eat like my friends do, but this makes me feel included.” He forgot Pathfinder was still standing there. “I thought it might do the same for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He felt dazed and considered whether the balls were poisoned after all.

“I have never seen your happy face before friend, and I really want to.” He even sounded excited about it.

“Why?” He doubted he’d get an answer he’d understand, he rarely understood Pathfinder.

“I like you.” He sounded so confident in it, like nothing he did would ever be able to change his mind and for some reason Pathfinder has taken a liking to him that he can’t seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. He’s not entirely sure he wants to try to shake it anymore.

Revenant determines that he’s only going to get more confusing answers the more he digs, so instead he picks up another ball and slots it into his neck and falls backwards onto the couch. The TV had finally booted up and he turns up the volume just so the silence isn’t deafening between them, although he lifts his head unexpectantly fast when Pathfinder begins to trot away.

“Where are you going?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Don’t worry friend! I am respecting your privacy, I know I sometimes get to close and it annoys you.” Pathfinder had definitely breached his privacy more than once, and he’s sure sneaking into his apartment to place gifts is breaking some sort of privacy rule, but he’s out the door before Revenant can have the impulse to tell him to wait, to tell him it’s fine, he can stay, and he’s glad he’s gone to save him the embarrassment of saying that.

It took him that moment of silence to realise that he was actually sitting on a blanket that hadn’t been there before and he experimentally ran his fingertips along the surface which proved to be as fluffy as it appeared. It was the same sunny shade as Pathfinders screen when he was happy, and he wondered if he chose that colour for the same reason. It clashed horribly with the angry red of his hands though, like he was tainting its innocent image with his touch. He concentrated as best he could onto the TV screen, an old rerun of Jaws was playing, and even though he had watched it through a thousand times already, one more viewing wouldn’t hurt. Regardless of most meat bags fear of sharks, he found he was rather fond of them, their sharp teeth being his particular note of interest. If he could swap out his fake lips for shark like teeth he would do so in a heartbeat.

As the movie played along he found his thoughts drifting more than once to the hallway and Pathfinders fearful expression and how he’d set up all this even after he’d attempted to hurt him. He glanced down to see the bowl was already half empty, he’d eaten so much his oil tanker was in danger of overflowing. He planned to set it back down on the table, instead he rested it on his lap, the weight of it an odd comfort.

He should return it; it was the least he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rev: What is this?  
> Path: Affection!  
> Rev: Disgusting...do it again
> 
> I cannot stress how much I need Pathfinders anniversary skin


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been eight days since I updated? When did that happen? My concept of time has slipped over a banana peel I just barely know where I am lol

Revenant halted his steps once again and adjusted his grip on the bowl, something about sleek metal fingers and porcelain bowls didn’t work well together and it kept slipping in his hold much to his frustration. He considered dropping it and watching it crackle into dust the minute it hit the concrete beneath him, but he knew that if Pathfinder went crying to his friends they wouldn’t leave him alone for the foreseeable future so he dutifully supressed the urge. He learnt that from experience, it had happened before one morning in the dropship, he argued that the MRVN didn’t actually feel real sadness after he displayed a crying emoji on his screen overhearing Gibraltar joke that the supply MRVNs around Olympus were ugly. The big man had profusely apologised and explained himself to Pathfinder, Revenant however, told him it was simply his programming that convinced him when he should or should not be sad.

It threw Pathfinder into an existential state like never before, questioning his programming versus him as an individual, to which he had growled something along the lines of that he didn’t have a purpose other than being a useless hunk of metal. He didn’t quite recall exactly what he had said anymore, he’d woken up furious that day and had become even more infuriated by his ridiculous teammates that cost him championship multiple times, so he took it all out on Pathfinder, because he was the closest thing that could talk nearby and the easiest to pick on. He’d been ‘sad’ for days after that, not showing up to games and when he did, his focus wasn’t there, making it far too easy to knock him down, which wasn’t as satisfying as when he put up a real, challenging fight. His little skin suit friends hadn’t left him alone for days, screaming at him for every little occurrence that came up, especially when it came to Pathfinder, who glowed in the light of his blue screen. It was a headache, and he supposed combating the robot wasn’t any fun if he was just going to lay down and take it, so he ended up being the one to find him, persuading him that he was actually a good opponent in the ring even if he didn’t know what his purpose was yet, and that he wasn’t going to drag the attention of his creator wallowing in a park. 

It’s abnormally embarrassing to admit that Pathfinder was good at what he does, realising he had been genuine about that statement made it worse, though it got him out of his ‘sad’ state anyhow and everything went relatively back to normal, he still threw insults at him and mocked his very being. He just swept away any ridicule of his creator, because coming across the scout dressed in anything other than a smiley face just felt wrong. 

Knock on the door, deliver the bowl in one piece, then leave as quickly as he came. That was the plan, at least, that’s what he’s been ordering himself to do for the past five minutes. If he could just pass the bowl over with minimal conversation that would be swell, on the other hand he already knew that wasn’t going to happen, Pathfinder is chatty, and will make conversation with just about anything including animals. Revenant reached the grass that lead up to the cottage and mindlessly stomped across it, aware of the flowers and small inspects he’s trampling, yet he doesn’t ease his footsteps any. He closes in on the wooden door and knocks on it so hard it rattles from its old and rusted hinges until its swinging open to a very surprised Pathfinder. 

“Hello friend! I did not expect you to visit.” He’s swinging the door open wider and Revenant momentarily forgets what he’s doing there.

He’s aware Pathfinder once lived in a warehouse before he joined the games, and so the image he had in his mind was of sleek clear floors, blinding fluorescent lights, and very tidy corners all in tones of white and grey, not unlike the warehouses he wakes up in after a false death. Turns out, He couldn’t be more wrong. Stuffed animals of all shapes, colours and sizes litter the place, photographs of friends and cats pinned the walls painted in a light yellow, small blankets and bright rugs covered the floor and little trinkets and figures decorated shelves and tables alike. He didn’t know what to focus on, it was all so much until his gaze closed in on an ancient looking piano tucked away behind a bookcase that held more ornaments than books. He hasn’t come across a piano in what felt like centuries.  
“Revenant?” Pathfinder questioned and he had to shake himself out of his thoughts. Right, returning the bowl.

“Here.” He shoved the bowl roughly towards his chest and, on impulse, pushed past him and into his home, the piano was drawing him in. He needed to get a better look.

Pathfinder made a note of thanks, only it fell on deaf ears as his fingers brushed the wooden surface of the piano and tingled, awakening some memory of a life that had long past, of practising on the keyboard at home in preparation for some act in a shitty school concert. He doesn’t know if these memories are real or just what he wanted to be real, but they feel far too specific not to be so he rolls with them. 

“Oh! Do you play?” Pathfinder claps behind him. 

“A very, very long time ago.” Where did he even get this piano? He’s sure wooden and ivory pianos were discontinued hundreds of years ago due to animal cruelty and the tree survival act. He took a seat on the small stool, Pathfinder still staring at him, did he play too? He felt like he knew how to play at least one song, somewhere in that broken mind of his he could still remember.

It took a few false starts, and he struggled to stretch muscles that didn’t exist across the keys, none the less he’s playing a rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He calls it a rendition because he’s pretty sure he’s switched some of the song around and repeated this current section more than he was supposed to. Suddenly the melody stops, his fingers cease to move. What was next? He felt his fingers scrambling for the next notes, but they wouldn’t come. He doesn’t remember the rest of the song and disappointment swells in his chest. He raises his fist ready to slam it down on the keys, because goddamn it can’t he relish in just one thing? When clapping suddenly erupted from Pathfinder.

“That was wonderful!” He cheered, hopping up to him and leaning down.

“You must be tone deaf.” He took his hands away from the piano, the disappointment was still there, though it was quickly dissipating in place of distraction via Pathfinder. It was hard not to be distracted by him, noisy and bright and inquisitive. 

“Not at all friend, although I have only just started learning, I think I am doing very good.” Pathfinder was sitting down next to him on the tiny bench in an instant and launching into the song he was apparently learning. 

Which just so happened to be ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and Revenant had to hold back a laugh at the sight of a giant murder bot bopping his head to a children’s song played jerkily on the piano. He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that he kept messing up and starting again. Eventually though, a sad face blinked onto his screen after restarting for the fifth time and that ‘bad’ feeling from yesterday began to swirl inside him again. He told himself time and time again that he couldn’t feel real sadness, that it was just programming, and yet the more he saw of the MRVN and the more he was around him, the more he noticed these flashes of behaviour that appeared very human. It was especially jarring when he came across a different MRVN, who acted more like a shell and lacked any glimpse of personality. Revenant glanced around the room once more, was it possible for a programmed MRVN Unit to decorate a house in clearly the things they enjoyed of their own free will?

“Look.” He replaced his fingers onto the keys. “Place your hands like this, it helps to reach the other keys better.” Pathfinder copied him, placing his digits tip down rather than pad down.

“If the note is too far, just take your hand away, beats breaking your fingers trying to stretch for it.” And with that he played a section of Pathfinder songs, slowly so he could see exactly what he was doing. 

He felt a weight on his arm and eyed his shoulder to see the MRVN leaning on him, apparently fascinated with the process. Pathfinder was always touchy though, what shocked him more was that he doesn’t have the intent to shove him off. And he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head so he can watch Pathfinder copy his instructions. This time it flows a lot more easily and he completes the song without stopping once, his screen back to glowing yellow. Revenant sighs a breath of relief, the scout had picked that up incredibly fast, if only he could pick up him wanting to be alone that fast.

“Did I do good?” His optic angled up to him and their faces were far closer than Revenant expected, causing him to nearly fall back in his haste to lean away from him.

“You did fine.” He mumbled, deciding to glare at the piano instead of the intense gaze Pathfinder had on him.

He felt as if he knew another song, some random one he learnt on a whim just because it sounded nice, and positioned his hands. It was a lot simpler than Beethoven, but it had a calming tune that he could daydream to and a slow rhythm that he could repeat without looking at the piano too much. He could get lost in it. He briefly looked at Pathfinder to find him completely entranced by the song, gaze locked onto his fingers and still very much leaning against his shoulder and it didn’t feel terrible. Why didn’t it feel as skin crawling as it usually did when he tried to touch him? Sure, it was the slightest of contact, his arm pressed up against his as he leaned over in a trance, but even that was the cause to shove him away most days. 

The song came to a finish, and he didn’t move or shift away, the melody of the music still echoing in his head.

“That was beautiful friend.” He sounded…placid. Not as loud. Not as irritating, in this moment anyways. Whatever the fuck this was.

Pathfinder moved away from his arm and stood, and the cool air of the cottage felt too cold against his old plates. Made a change from the sweltering heat, he supposed. He stood too, the mornings frustration and budding anger vanished as he stared down at Pathfinder who seemed to just accept Revenants presence in the vulnerability of his home, moving to clear the blankets from the floor and placing them on the definitely gifted couch pressed against the wall. If this were anyone else, they’d have their gun trained on him and demanding he leave. 

His scarf felt tight around his neck and he absently raised his fist to adjust it when Pathfinder suddenly flinched away from him, arms raised and head ducked.

Revenant instantly sinks back down into the fiery depths of hell, all his demon’s voices ramping up in their yelling in his mind. 

God, he hates himself. 

Pathfinder relaxes and says something to him, although he doesn’t hear it, he’s far too busy imagining what his arms would look like if he just tore them off. 

“Friend?” He takes a step towards him, and he unconsciously steps back, he needs out.

“I’m going home.” He grumbles, the tell-tale itching starting to crawl up his arms and he crosses them in attempt to combat it.

“Oh, okay! See you tomorrow friend!” Tomorrow? What was tomorrow? Oh, the games, they were starting up again now that Pathfinder was completely repaired. He notices Pathfinders thumbs up and grunts, leaving the cottage, and when he turns he’s watching him retreat from the window, offering a small wave.

He slammed the door behind him once he got in, definitely hearing a crack produce. Okay, what the hell was that? He doesn’t even know when he had last felt like that. Numb. Pleasantly numb. There was nothing, no chaotic hive in his brain, no want to murder everyone around him, just the sweet sound of the piano and a pleased MRVN beside him. It was weird, and strange, and all things odd that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. He hadn’t ever been in the robots’ company and not wanted to smash his screen in. Apart from when he saved him. Maybe that’s what changed, in a sudden act of stupidity he saved the robot and now everything was weird. Then he’d flinched away from him and he felt angry, and not at Pathfinder for once. 

He ran a hand down his face and observed his fingers in the unflattering yellow of the ceiling lights, he couldn’t feel the piano so much as the solidarity of it, despite that it still left a phantom sensation of his hands. A faint tingling. His arm still felt cold too, he shoved it off and threw that thought into the pile of things not to think too much into. 

He had a game tomorrow that he wasn’t aware of, and he needed to prepare for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the song I was listening to when writing which is "Petit Biscuit - You" just in case ya'll were curious c:


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter for ya'll, hope it's all correct, because I have a horrible habit of editing really late at night.

Revenant turned up the Apex common rooms the next day to find half of Kings Canyon destroyed and a man with a heavy Australian accent lounging around the cafeteria. A new legend apparently, called himself ‘Fuse’, and if the cocky grin and loud slurping of his beer was any indication, he was going to be _very_ annoying. Well, every skin suit was annoying, just some had more of a flair for being annoying. Such as Rampart and Mirage, who he’d almost murdered several times before, both inside and outside of games for their nosy attitude and knack for constantly spewing bad jokes. He recalls them debating who was ‘hotter’ one day, getting so heated that their shouting lured the other teams to them, costing them the match. He had been exceedingly tempted to stick his claws into her useless brain if she hadn’t already been posed behind Sheila. Both irritated him beyond belief, and their sarcastic quips didn’t help either. Not wanting to acknowledge the new guy, he simply marched straight past him without batting an eye and into the corner where he could have visual of everyone in the room.

Pathfinder was the next to arrive, he could hear his hydraulics a mile away, the difference was that instead of finding a corner to wallow in such as himself, he stopped short upon seeing Fuse before running up to him and eagerly introducing himself. He doesn’t know whether to be shocked or generally confused that Fuse shifts his body towards him and shakes his hand, quickly adapting to Pathfinders high energy. The man suddenly tips his head back and expels a short laugh, patting Pathfinders chest and saying something that makes the scouts whole body bounce on the spot and he really is shocked now. He wonders what could be said to draw that reaction out of Pathfinder, probably something along the lines of friendship, he guesses.

He notices the others are slowly inching their way towards the two, spurred on by their conversation to instigate their own. Likely going to question him, the nosey bunch. While they take seats close by, he turns on the TV hanging above them to find out just how damaged the Canyon is and how that even happened. Luckily a news broadcaster is recapping the events, he can see the platform that Fuse is standing on suddenly be overtaken with a woman’s voice in a familiar Australian accent, and all at once everything is tumbling and collapsing and exploding, shooting rubble and debris down onto the civilians. The camera has a clear shot of Lifeline and Gibraltar running and guiding the people to do the same, Fuse remains on the platform looking rather panicked. Firecrackers in a diamond shape form the canyon beside him and Fuse is grabbing the MRVN stationed at the screens and dashing away. Huh. No wonder he was so quick to adjust to Pathfinder, he appeared to like MRVNs if he was willing to risk his life to save one. He ignores the connotations of that. The video switches back to the reporter who is questioning Fuse’s intentions and whether he should be trusted.

“Hey, tall brooding fella in the back, you joining us or what?” He turned to see Fuse beckoning him from his seat, a cocky grin smothering his face as his fingers did a ‘come hither’ motion. He scoffed and turned away.

Pathfinder ran up to him though.

“I didn’t see you in the corner.” He vibrated in place. “I made a new friend.”

“I don’t care.” He grumbled, he saw the way sarcasm dripped from the very appearance of Fuse, he should have known they’d be fast friends. Pathfinders so called best friend is the most sarcastic in this entire group.

“Why did you come over here?” He’s curious as to what his reasoning’s are for coming up to him this time.

“I wanted to check up on you, you seemed lonely in that corner.” He pointed to the corner he was in, and he realised he’d actually edged closer to where Fuse and Pathfinder were sat without realising.

“I’m fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked back up, Pathfinder tilted his head and went to say something when Wraith called his name, called his attention away from him again.

It was rare he and Pathfinder would finish a conversation, his friends always quick to pull him away when he got too close. He wasn’t sure why he’d want to finish a conversation with him in the first place, he never did before, often opting for walking away or sneaking around the robot so he wouldn’t notice him. Now, he was slightly curious to what he’d say next, how he’d process and interpret his words, if too much would make him overheat and explode. He shook himself out of it, he’s just tired, that’s why he thought that. Or perhaps it was the events of yesterday still plaguing his mind, how normal he had felt playing the piano and how nice it was to not hate everything in existence for once.

“Come on friend, we should move to the dropship now.” And when he turned, he found Fuse studying him with an oddly knowing glint in his eyes, well, eye. He can study him all he wants he won’t find anything; he growls to himself.

The dropship is positively packed with people, newbies not knowing what ship they’re supposed to be on and new legends that were moved to high tier all piling on, fumbling about and trying to get autographs when they should be preparing themselves for the fight. No matter, he’s sure he’ll slaughter them all anyway. The announcer sounds faint among all the noise and he strains to hear which squad is which, God, some of these legends looks no older than sixteen. Snot nosed brats didn’t know what they were getting themselves into and for the life of them couldn’t shut up.

“Squad ten, Revenant, Pathfinder, Fuse, please make your way to the door.”

Revenant turned his optics off for a minute and pretended he could take a deep breath. Of course he’d be paired with Fuse, it was just his luck. Nevertheless, he made his way to the door, shoving and bumping into people who wouldn’t move out of the way and swerving around the ones that shrivelled in fear.

“We’re on the same team again, exciting!” Pathfinder bundled his hands up to his chest, waiting for him to agree.

“Not with our third teammate.” He grumbled and leaned against the wall, from here the sun bounced off of the MRVNs head and shoulders, forcing him to take notice off all the tiny dents and scratches. He wasn’t as pristine as he remembered, actually he looked a little rough around the edges. When was the last time he had a paint job?

“Friend?” Shit, what did he say? He zoned out.

“Oh, perhaps you did not hear me, I asked why you don’t like Fuse.” Oh, right.

“He’s another annoying skin suit designed to make my life miserable.” He was getting infuriated just talking about him, who knows how this match will turn out.

“I like him; I think he is interesting.” Before he could disagree, the man himself was strutting up to them.

“Like ya too mate, gotta say, never met a MRVN like you before.” He rested his arm on Pathfinders shoulder, despite the robot being much taller than him.

They continued to chat, but Revenant couldn’t take his eyes off of the arm on the scout’s shoulders, his hand was loosely patting it, seemingly to a rhythm as he asked Pathfinder questions that he was all too happy to answer. The others had done this before, patted his shoulder, swatted his arm when he attempted sarcasm, gave him quick, one armed hugs. It never lasted this long though, it was as if Fuse was superglued to Pathfinders side, the scout had even looped his other arm around him and pulled him in to make more room. He thinks it’s too make more room, unless he just wants to hug Fuse. Why is he thinking so deeply into this? It wasn’t unnatural for Pathfinder to be affectionate, or even clingy, and yet the sight of them stuck together is throwing him off, it’s distracting him from the murder machine mood he should be getting into right now to prepare for the game.

It’s nothing, he tells himself, just ready up, they’ll be dropping soon. And they are, the parachute light flickers green, this time Pathfinder is jumpmaster so it’s up to him where they die. He picks the Octane inspired area and begins their descent, Fuse shows off by riding his motherlode tanker and he audibly sighs and rolls his eyes as far as they can go. Off to a great start.

When they drop, Pathfinder is determined to get the level three Evo Shield hanging in the middle of the ring of fire, it’s quite amusing to watch him struggle to catch it flying this way and that. He opens a loot bin in the meantime, hmm, Eva-8 shotgun or the Wingman. He takes the shotgun; more damage can be done to those who dare to mess with him.

A yelp draws his attention to the ring of fire, Pathfinder’s somehow managed to misjudge his position and is quickly flinging himself towards the top edge of the small building on the other side, he’s grappling wildly and missing the roof, meaning he’s going to crash into it and crash into it _hard_. Shit. He quickly dashes towards him and crawls up the side of the building with all the speed he can muster, preparing himself to catch four hundred pounds of weight. Although, when he reaches the top he is cut short, Fuse is already there and already helping Pathfinder to his feet, chuckling and swinging his arms around him in a way that would suggest they’ve known each other for years. Something surges in Revenants chest, akin to anger, only instead of it being directed at the entire world or himself, it’s directed at Fuse and Fuse only. This man thinks he can show up and steal the spotlight. He has the strongest urge to chop his arm off and crush its metal surface into shards. He just barely manages not to when Pathfinder brushes against his side.

“What the hell happened?” He demands, glaring at Fuse looting the bins to the side.

“I lost my balance, I did not expect it to be so slippery.” Is his explanation.

“Well don’t do it again, you’ll be of no use to me dead.” And with that he moves on, grabbing what ammo and weaponry he can, trying to ignore Fuse who’s doing the same.

This is going to be the longest match of his life.

He points to a black tower in the far distance and tells them he’s looting there, because his whole body feels like prickly ice water has been poured inside him every time he has to watch Fuse and Pathfinder being all buddy buddy. He doesn’t have nearly enough shotgun ammo or patience to deal with this. He squints up at the shining purple shield in the ring of fire and decides to give it a try. Taking a few steps back to gear himself up he sprints towards the ramp, sliding down and bouncing on the jump pad and up into the air. He focuses his sight onto the Evo shield and grabs it, making sure to land as lightly as he could so he wouldn’t break anything vital or rip a wire.

When he stands, Pathfinders is staring at him with his screen lit up in exclamation marks.

“Impressive! I wish I could do that.” He claps, standing closer to him than he did with Fuse he notes. Why did he notice that? It wasn’t at all important or worthy information to know.

He doesn’t say anything, instead shoving the shield over his head and watching it do the sparkly thing that makes it turn invisible on his body. He adjusts the scarf around his neck, tightening it knowing that if he’s going to be jumping and sprinting around this much it’s going to come loose and block his vision, Pathfinder is still staring at him, not moving or saying anything, which is a feat in itself.

“What?” He pushes. His core whirs with newfound intensity.

“Nothing!” He snaps his head away in an instant. “We should head to that tower.”

Weird. But he’s always weird, so he dismisses it, throwing his gun over his back and sprinting alongside them, making sure to pump his legs as swiftly as he could, because he knew Pathfinder could keep up, but Fuse couldn’t, and he took delight in the way he was huffing and puffing by the time they reached the tower.

“Enemy spotted.” Pathfinder helpfully chirped.

He could see them running through a gap in the cliff like tiny ants and tossed his silencer at them, satisfied by the orange tint that sparks around them. In an instant he whips out his Eva-8 shotgun, blasting at them as they stutter and scramble for cover. Heh. This part is always fun. The squad consisted of Wraith, Wattson, and Gibraltar. Abilities difficult in combat, though not so difficult if they are silenced correctly. He prepares the second silencer, knowing the first will have worn off by now when Pathfinder peeks over the edge and grapples down, swinging himself into an ambush.

He doesn’t care for Pathfinder, he never has. And yet the sight of him swinging into danger makes him consider whether his respawn chip is truly fixed, Wattson is a scientist, not an engineer and if she fucked up in any way, if it’s wonky or defective Pathfinder could die. He doesn’t care, he repeats to himself even as he springs into action, chasing the sound of rampart gunfire. He doesn’t care, even when the sight of Pathfinder getting punched in the face and losing his balance fills his non-existent mouth with distaste. He shouldn’t care when a shot rings through the air and pierces his leg joint, rendering him useless. He raises a totem, entering the shadows in secret and shooting with no fear of death. Not like he ever feared death to begin with. Wraith is down, good, he desperately needs to get Gibraltar down, changes his mind when Fuse releases a series of fire crackers onto the big guy. Wattson is fairly easy to kill, she’s short, far shorter than him, and petite too, nevertheless her trigger finger can be deadly if not careful. So he slips behind her when she’s distracted attempting to heal Wraith and gets a shot right at her head. Within seconds, everyone has evaporated, leaving behind death boxes. He spots Pathfinder on the ground being cradled in Fuses arms as he gently eases a syringe into him.

He doesn’t want to care.

So he takes it out in the only way he knows how, raising his hand he scratches at his arm until paint begins to chip away and rain onto the ground. He chips and cracks and scratches until all feelings fade just like the paint. Pathfinder is pulled upright by Fuse who continues on his merry way, but Pathfinder, he instantly dashes up to him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, he sounds oddly far away and Revenant feels stuck in a daze, until blocky fingers are wrapping around his own.

“None of your business.” He attempts to snatch his hand away, except Pathfinder has a vice grip on him and isn’t letting go, his hydraulics have ramped up in volume too.

“Friend, don’t hurt yourself.” He voice is soft. “Please?”

He doesn’t know how to respond, the MRVNs digits are tracing around the missing paint with far more tenderness than he could ever deserve. Pathfinders voice sounded oddly shaky and when he risks a glance at his screen he sees its covered by a giant crying face. He’s still stroking his arm, never daring to touch where the paint has come off, keeping to just around it as if he could heal it with his touch alone. It’s…nice. No one has ever touched him so delicately before and it takes him a moment to recognise that half of that was because he never let anyone touch him in the first place. That he’s allowing this now. He’s staring into Pathfinders optic without warning, it’s so bright and shiny in this light. Although he knows that he’d somehow find a way to be bright and shiny in a dark room with no lights at all. Maybe it’s just him.

The announcement of the ring closing echoes around the tower and he finally steps away, slipping his hand away from Pathfinder. He hadn’t realised that Fuse had already scouted ahead, leaving them alone.

“Come on.” His voice is more quite than it’s ever been as he nods to the quickly enclosing ring.

“Can you promise me you won’t hurt yourself again, friend?” He stops again, he hadn’t expected that. His screen is still crying.

“Why does it matter? If I die I’ll just wake up in a different body, cursed to repeat it all again” He explains, his arm is tingling and he can’t tell if it’s from the missing paint or Pathfinders gentle touch.

“But doesn’t it hurt you to die and wake up again?” He steps closer, ignoring all bounds of personal space. Surprisingly, the lack of space isn’t bothering him right now.

“No.” It’s not a lie exactly, he’s just done it so many times that it no longer hurts, because he’s aware he’ll just wake up. He feels numb instead.

“I don’t want you to die, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” The way he looks down at the grass and scuffs his foot in it, he thinks he looks oddly small right now. Vulnerable.

“…Fine.” He grumbles, quickly moving away and turning his back. He’s uncomfortable and is definitely not going to be able to keep to that promise. Why did he even agree to it, of course he won’t be able to stick to it.

“Oh! Thank you!” Pathfinder holds onto his arm and he struggles to shrug him off, sick of all of physical contact today. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the robot bouncing in place, pleased because he said he wouldn’t hurt himself. Weirdo. Most would pay good money to watch him in pain. There’s another word threatening to come to mind at the sight of the MRVN all giddy and bubbly, but he can’t quite place a finger on it. It’ll come to him eventually.

“That makes me very happy.” He says.

“Whatever.” He manages to shrug him off of his arm.

An Australian voice cuts through his ear piece, Fuse is down. He must’ve gotten ambushed whilst he and Pathfinder were making their way over. Either way, he isn’t too fussed, but Pathfinder promptly rushes off, grappling away to save him. He only realises how calm he feels when Pathfinder is no longer at his side. When he’s left alone he realises just how light he felt, and it sinks him back down. He had no right to feel calm, he’s a disgusting mistake. He doesn’t deserve to feel calm.

He shoves it all deep down in favour of darting towards Pathfinder and Fuse, there are about three squads all fighting each other at once, two on the ground, one squad above with a decked out Sentinel. He’s so focused on how to get down the hill without being sniped or spotted that he doesn’t notice the drizzle of rain that begins to pelt down on Kings Canyon. He slides down and slithers behind a boulder, summoning his totem in preparation. He springs around the corner, firing wildly at Bangalore who attempts to shoot her smoke canister. It halts. Her eyebrows raise as she looks stunned and tries it again only for it to lock up a second time. In the distance he sees Bloodhounds scan freaking out and Fuses flames going out the second they land. What is going on?

“Announcement, all Apex Legends are to return to the common rooms.”

Revenant looked around to find that Kings Canyon was quickly filling up with water, the sand turning to sticky mush, since when did it downpour in a desert? In a flash he’s brought back to the common rooms, thoroughly soaked and his ankles are caked in mud from sliding down the wet hillside. He finds his usual corner and takes a seat, staring out at the black clouds rolling over Kings Canyon. What was going on with him today? He finds himself twirling his fingers over the missing paint in the same pattern Pathfinder had, only rougher. He felt a little stunned, to be honest. Today felt like he was in a rollercoaster, fuming with anger one minute, calm and vulnerable the next.

“Do you-you like r-r-rain?” he turned to find Pathfinder sluggishly taking a seat across from him. His voice glitched over the syllables, cutting out every now and then.

“What happened to your voice?” He asks.

“I am not ver-very water-water proof.” He offered. He thought back to his apartment and how he’d sometimes witness Pathfinder running about in the rain.

“Are you an idiot? Why go in rain if it’ll just damage you?” Rain did the same to him, if anything wet hit the exposed wires in his thighs he’s reduced to lying in bed, wasting time charging himself up, because of a short circuit.

“I-I like rain.” He wonders if this happens every time he ventures out into rain, or if it’s a certain density that affects him. With himself, he’s only truly affected if he’s submerged in water for a long period of time, rainy days didn’t particularly affect him.

“Me too.” He gives up. He’s confused and wet and covered in mud, talking to an idiot that willingly gets himself wet despite the dangers. If he short circuits he’s not carrying him home. 

He continues to watch the rain from the window, hand resting on his jaw. Fuse struts past them and Revenant feels a familiar surge when he asks Pathfinder if he wants to join them in the bar. Shockingly, the robot declines, apparently content to sit in silence and watch the rain patter down the window with him. Fuse awkwardly peeks at him and holds out his hands in defence when he growls, eventually leaving them alone again. He feels only slightly smug at that, and he snickers under his breath. Serves him right, shouldn’t have gotten in his way all match. Pathfinders gaze burns into him from his side and from his peripheral he thinks he can see a pink glow. Curiously, he turns to him, watching his slightly wet screen. It’s hearts, bright pink hearts directed at him.

“Let’s walk ho-home together, fr-friend!” He’s back to clapping his hands together, bouncing on his seat and searching his face expectantly.

Cute, that’s the word he couldn’t place earlier. Frantically, he banishes all forms of that word from his minds dictionary, because pathfinder is most certainly not _cute_.

“Fine, after it stops raining, I’m not carrying you if you short circuit.” This small corner in the cafeteria feels private, tailored to them as he tunes out the sound of everyone else and focuses on Pathfinder and his strange ability to dull his senses.

“Okay, friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read Pathfinders quest and ho boy, definitely the best purchase of my life. Path is now 20% cuter than he originally was. 
> 
> It's also my Birthday tomorrow (3rd March) and i am HYPED for some cake, I miss the deliciousness of Victoria sponge

**Author's Note:**

> path and rev are the new wall-e and eve that is all


End file.
